


Painted Wings and Giant Strings

by Theatregirl7299



Series: Dragon'verse [7]
Category: White Collar
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 21:48:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5065555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theatregirl7299/pseuds/Theatregirl7299
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal comes home after a rough day at work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Painted Wings and Giant Strings

**Author's Note:**

> A/N – Written for Caffrey-Burke Day 2015 as part of my Dragon’verse. Title comes from “Puff the Magic Dragon”. Thank you to my Beta Elrhiarhodan for the wonderful suggestions.

The brass doors of the private elevator whooshed open as soon as Neal pushed the ‘up’ button. He stepped on, slid his card through the reader and selected ‘P’ for the penthouse. The doors closed and he could feel the hydraulics lift the car up towards home.

Neal was so happy to be heading up to the penthouse, and so exhausted that he couldn’t see straight. He leaned against the wall of the elevator and sighed, rolling his shoulders to loosen them. He’d spent much of the day hunched over his drafting table and workbench, with only a short break for lunch and now his back was definitely paying the price. His tattoos were reflecting the pain, twitching and rolling like wrestlers in an ongoing struggle. Neal closed his eyes as the soft dinging of the floor chimes soothed the stress away. He was so glad it was Friday and he had two days of relaxation to look forward to.

He though about his day and grimaced – there were just too many annoyances. Mrs. Hawthorne had brought her amber and citrine necklace in to be fixed for the third time. Both Peter and Neal had told her that she needed to remove it before bed because of the delicate filigree work, but she refused to listen. Neal was at the point where he would have to tell her that there was no way he could solder it back together without ruining the design. He was just glad that Diana had taken her over to the new display of iolite and distracted her.

Then the shipment of diamonds and sapphires had come in for the rush job for the Zelinski wedding and Neal had spent the afternoon creating a waterfall choker in platinum for the bride. Peter had stopped in to bring him coffee and commented that the necklace would last longer than the wedding.

Neal had laughed and shooed him out of his office because Peter was a distraction that he hadn’t needed - but always wanted - that afternoon. Six hours later Diana had knocked on his door, told him that they’d been closed for two hours and insisted he head upstairs because Peter was holding dinner for him. 

The doors opened to the foyer and Neal stepped off, heading towards the apartment. The front door was slightly opened, when meant that Mozzie hadn’t left yet.

He closed the door behind him, tossed his keycard into the Waterford bowl on the table in the entry and followed the scent of roasting beef into the kitchen.

Mozzie was seated at the bar, reading that day’s edition of _The Cracked Scale_ , wine glass at his elbow. He muttered a reply as Neal greeted him.

“So what’s up in the land of dragons?” Neal asked, opening up the oven and checked the roast. Another ten minutes wouldn’t hurt it, he thought.

“The usual,” Mozzie grumbled. “The Gold Party is claiming corruption in the last election of the _Teach na scálaí_ , which is ludicrous. Everyone knows that they stuffed the ballot box during the last two elections.” Mozzie shook the paper and went back to cursing the politics of dragonkind.

Neal chuckled. He’d never really followed politics in the human world and was totally clueless in terms of the dragonkind version. He let Peter handle that. Luckily they hadn’t had to interact with any of the dignitaries and politicians yet – Peter had managed to put that off, claiming Neal was still getting settled in with Dar. 

“So – are you staying for dinner?” he asked, pulling down a glass and pouring himself some wine.

“No.” Mozzie checked his watch. “Actually, I need to go. I have a date.” He folded the newspaper and stood.

“A date?” Neal raised an eyebrow. “Can I ask their name?”

“ _Her_ name is Gina. She works at the local diner where I have breakfast. We share a love of the printed word. She’s a Scultone, like me. It’s – nice.”

Neal grinned as Mozzie blushed and ducked his head. “Good for you, Moz. Where are you going?”

“To a poetry reading by Gustalf von Roterdrache,” he replied, referring to the dragon poet laureate. “She’s never seen him in person.”

Neal had read some of his work and was impressed. “Sounds like fun. Don’t stay out too late.” He winked at Mozzie.

“What are you? My mother?” Mozzie retorted. 

“No, but you know that you promised to watch Dar tomorrow afternoon so Peter and I could go out for brunch to that new fusion place.”

Mozzie sighed and stuck the newspaper under his arm. “Fine, I’ll be here at ten.” He headed to the front door. “Call me at nine-thirty.” 

“I will.” Neal opened the cupboards and took out plates for himself and Peter. He set the table in the breakfast nook, glad that the setting sun was edging behind the other buildings so there would be no glare. He chose a bottle of 2010 _La Fleur-Petrus_ and uncorked it, letting it breathe before setting Yo Yo Ma’s rendition of Bach’s Unaccompanied Cello Suite No. 1 on low. Neal poured the rest of the Barolo that Mozzie had been drinking into his glass to finish it and went in search of Peter.

He found him in Dar’s room. Leaning against the doorjamb, Neal looked at his mate. A wave of love and yes, lust, washed over him. It never ceased to amaze Neal how lucky he was to have Peter in his life. He smiled at the thought and leaned in to listen. 

Peter was sitting in the wooden rocking chair that had been a gift from Elizabeth, tie off, his feet bare. The rays of the evening sun were sneaking around the skyline, bathing him in a golden glow that radiated off the slight scales that peeked out from under the collar of his white dress shirt. In his arms was Dar, curled up and nuzzling his chin.

Peter was murmuring, a mix of English and dragon-speak, and Neal could feel the vibrations through the parquet flooring. Dar squeaked and rolled over, its demands for a belly scratch echoing lightly in Neal’s head. Peter’s laugh was a rumble as he began rubbing Dar’s stomach.

Neal watched the two of them, a smile still on his face. They were his family and it was perfect.

_Poppa…sing…_ Dar sounded – giggly – was the only way Neal could describe it. _Sing the magic song._

Neal wasn’t sure what Dar was asking for until he heard Peter’s reply. In a quiet voice, Peter began:

_Puff the magic dragon lived by the sea_  
_And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honali_  
_Little Jackie Paper loved that rascal Puff_  
_And brought him strings and sealing wax and other fancy stuff._

Neal chuckled quietly at the song. It was one that his mother had sung to him as a child and for Peter to be singing it to Dar sent a warm feeling through him. He caught Peter’s eye and winked, gesturing for him to continue. Peter started the chorus and Neal joined in.

_Oh, Puff the magic dragon lived by the sea_  
_And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honali_  
_Puff the magic dragon lived by the sea_  
_And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honali._

Dar turned and stretched out a claw. _Come, Da._

Neal walked in the room and sat down at Peter’s feet. He took Dar’s claw and rubbed it, smiling at the pleased sounds his dragonet was making. They kept singing softly as Dar’s breathing settled into the rhythms of sleep.

_Together they would travel on a boat with billowed sail_  
_Jackie kept a lookout perched on Puff's gigantic tail_  
_Noble kings and princes would bow whene'er they came_  
_Pirate ships would lower their flags when Puff roared out his name._

_Oh, Puff the magic dragon lived by the sea_  
_And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honali_  
_Puff the magic dragon lived by the sea_  
_And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honali._

Neal rested his head on Peter’s knee and closed his eyes, breathing in the unique scent that was his mate and his offspring and smiled to himself.

Dinner could wait.

_Fin_


End file.
